The boytoy

Over me stranger, a sky of fillets in muse,
Dearest rain amuses its arrival
Mad girl comes unkempt, hers not bathed
Of what fearful muse, do you protrude your colorful fangs?

Over me dearest stranger, dressings in orange
Orange aunts that bought orange houses, their terraces
A sight for urchins, Ones who lost their nights over few baths and skirts
Physic unbidden, a cello which stares back unstirred.

Fisting their ages in pearled shakes , crisscrossed palms
Difficult that defects, never bowing their diseased heads
When all with eyes not parted, you come gently in colloquial
Diffusing all the iron and the leaden manhood
As the lone love, the begotten, the terminal caress permeating
Crisscrossed palms, firm fists, the celebration
Of a boyhood forgotten.
--

Love In Kennel

There she is, on that terrace again


the dog-dream of her bones rests here, alone and leaning

On this old tin porch chair

She never ever looks at the dog

But, always turns her face away

when glanced at.

I wonder how she ever finds out.



Dog-dreams cross her everyday

Beneath tree shadows, amid the blaze of sun, on the purple leaves

Then her last bone of meat is done,

Then the terminal snow smears on the white carcass

Then she absolves, then she absorbs

Her one little heart, humming like a medieval bee.

Her polished nails scratching the redwood

Where ivy breathes her panting, while she races on

behind the big fat asthmatic sun.

beside her

morning of besides

Once seen,

Then sightless for many.

Sun like a mustard, on this infant autumn evening

Crystallized white by her white paws

Acquitting the autumn of its foetus

Carelessly so , teasing in grasslands

Teasing sticky,

Teasing ugly,

Teasing vibrant

Teasing charades with her high heeled bright black shoes.

Then, fisting the night in blobs

Scattering all over the world

that only sleeps

in that falsity of her uterus.

Moss

I

you were numb on love


deadened ,

torpid sleep in my eyes

as the nights anesthetized my retina

Continually bickering,

howling,

at

this last rain -

swarming in tears.

remotely doors thud

all my thoughts

in falsity of love

knows you dearly.

 
 
 
II
 
 
Say well-healed , say opulent


if you other.

what are we scared of?



Shell out women on terraces

Shell out patchwork of shower

By the fountain-play, where

soaps slip out of clutch

marrying the rampant ale.



why must we take pains

to cross the bridge

over rambling water.

Cohere to my ranter.



Slain furtively, and witness

the sly darkness

caressing the murky dying sun

nobody anywhere to frown



you were in dusk plentiful

glued to unperturbed flow

times we dont deny of.

lets walk back

to homely birds -

tell me some.

my applause tucked

along million pages fleeting.

wind comes splintering

Whirling them beyond

the walls of fountain



beside me

morning of besides

somebody's ghungroos

that somebody left.

playmate

To you that i write
your senses i did not
glassy , leered into post-suicidal rain
droplets merely bounce off
my days

there need not be wonted discourse
to you that i do not ask
old and ancient feminine pride
you of moth-eaten libraries
i merely do not rest there

much as silent provoked
you of misty solicitude
this eerie silence i refuse
that it will not let me be
the tiger that never found me

what of flesh in men foretold
in women wriggling against party walls
what of scraping trash off my cities
duino elegies, psychedelia, teenage wasteland
what of him - your vaginal repose
self pity loved many
this time, me.

Autumn ale

These poetic repertoires
                          In drowning
Our ears felt,
         Tiny white sea-lice
                          Sharing our ears
Eavesdrops  -
           Dipped in autumn ale
                                 Weightless we stay.

Somewhere I have lived..

Somewhere I have lived
A life of wanderings, before
I knew the wind,
the tumultuous surge of knowing.

Somewhere I have thought
neither you, nor I
Rattling in between;
serving as dispersion.

Of mad poets:
writing,
listening madly,
conquering none. 

somewhere I have only whispered
nothings.
Somewhere we began to grow,
our brains neutralized
to texts, texts permitted not
to question for sometime

We rarely tied down.
As the teardrops on a muslin
Carefully hidden somewhere
finest, where we practiced losing.

We ate cities for joys consuming,
for I probed For you.
You were the ribs, ribs of ink dripping
Jocundly patterned on sheets of elsewheres

Because somewhere
we wanted it this way.